


The Journey Home

by thecaptainhedgehog (lyzeebyrd)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Broken Bond, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Rebuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyzeebyrd/pseuds/thecaptainhedgehog
Summary: The journey home can sometimes be harder than the journey taken. With his banishment still looming over his head, Bilbo Baggins cannot return to the alpha that has so clearly rejected him. But when he finds himself in a position that he had never intended, he is unable to return to the Shire. But when everything seems ready to fall apart, can Bilbo make the journey Home?





	1. After the Storm

Bilbo Baggins cried out for his Alpha from his cot in the men’s camps. He had made it through the battle nearly unscathed but for a small head injury. He’d been knocked unconscious, awakening only to see his Alpha engaged in battle with the Defiler himself. It was his skill for conkers – the very skill for which Thorin had scoffed at him during their first meeting – that saved them in the end.

Bilbo had been thrown against a large rock, and by the time he came to, Thorin was sword-to-mace with the Defiler. In a moment of combined panic and instinct, Bilbo grabbed one of the many pebbles littered across the icy ground, got himself a running start, and hurled it at the orc with as much strength as he could muster before collapsing to the ground once more. His aim was true, and the pebble bounced harmlessly off of the orc’s forehead, but in the split second that the orc took to look for his assailant, Thorin found his opening and thrust Orcrist into the Defiler’s heart. However, the orc managed one more wild swing with his mace, which crunched into Thorin’s side. The orc’s body fell lifeless to the ground, and Bilbo faded to the vision of Thorin swaying dangerously.

When he finally regained consciousness, Bilbo found himself in a medical tent that had been set up within the men and elves’ camp in Dale. When an elven healer stopped at his cot to check on him, he could only ask, “Thorin?”

“The King Under the Mountain is alive,” the elf answered, completely devoid of emotion. When Bilbo began to struggle to rise from the bed, another elf was by his side to hold him down. “You mustn’t move from this bed. You took a nasty blow to the head, and we haven’t the time to heal your injuries again because you insist on being impertinent.”

Bilbo tried to argue, “I need –“

“To rest.” There, at the foot of his cot, stood Gandalf the Grey, looking far more disheveled than Bilbo could remember seeing him over the course of their harrowing quest. “You need to heal, Bilbo Baggins. It’s not just your own well being at stake, after all.”

“Surely, I don’t know what you mean,” Bilbo glared. _That_ was nobody’s business. He wasn’t even sure, and after the battle…

“It is safe and healthy,” the elven healer assured him. “So long as you remain in this bed until I tell you it is safe to do otherwise.”

Bilbo breathed a small sigh of relief. That, at least, was fine.

“The Company, Gandalf?” he asked, his voice small from fear. If any of them had been lost…

“All alive and accounted for,” Gandalf answered. “Master Balin has informed me that some are missing a piece or two, but that was to be expected. All in all, the Company will recover and be hailed the Heroes of Erebor.”

“Have any of them come to see…” Bilbo trailed off, too wary of the answer to finish his question.

Gandalf shook his head. He likely meant for the smile he offered to be of some reassurance, but even injured and weak, the hobbit could see that it did not quite reach his eyes. Anyone who had not spent six months on the road with the wizard would not notice the way he shifted his weight to the opposite foot in discomfort, but Bilbo noticed. “Both Bard and Thranduil have offered to give you a place in their homes, for however long you like.”

Bilbo laid back against his pillows with a languished sigh. “I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?”

“No,” Gandalf agree with a heavy heart. “It would be unwise, given the circumstances. It may be possible to make it as far as Beorn’s home, but even that, I believe, may be too taxing.”

“Absolutely not,” the elf interrupted. Truthfully, Bilbo had nearly forgotten his presence, even though his hand was still firmly set against the hobbit’s chest. “The shape-shifter is ill-equipped to deal with your…condition. You will need an _elven_ healer in the months to come.”

“Yes, yes,” Gandalf harrumphed. “It was only a suggestion.”

The elf’s eyes shot daggers at the wizard. He continued, “The Greenwood would be preferable, but you will still have access to the care you need should you choose to remain in Dale. I am sure that an elvish presence will be maintained around the Mountain while reparations – “

“Enough,” Bilbo barked, tears stinging at his eyes. “Dale. I will stay in Dale. I will not go back into the Mirkwood. That forest is sick, I tell you. It was hell for me when I was… Let alone now.”

The forest and the elven kingdom were host a plethora of memories that Bilbo would sooner forget than dredge back to the surface, as well as those he simply could not yet bear to give up. Dale… There were no memories attached to Dale, not like there were to the Mirkwood or to Esgaroth. It would never be home, but it could be a place to live until such a time that it was possible to return to the Shire.

“Does Bard know?” Bilbo asked.

“I did not feel it was my place to tell him,” Gandalf replied.

“As if you’ve ever thought anything wasn’t yours to tell, you meddler,” Bilbo retorted, his voice dripping with heartache. “Unless it somehow works in favor of one of your schemes. So what are you scheming this time, Gandalf?”

“No schemes, this time, Bilbo,” Gandalf bowed his head, for once embracing the shame. “You were not meant to suffer like this. For that, I can only apologize and try to help you in any way that I can.”

“Then go, Gandalf.” Tears began to leak from the corners of Bilbo’s eyes. “Tell Bard that I accept his invitation. Explain as much as you can without telling him about… Without blaming Thorin. I don’t want anyone to know who it is.” _Who left this blasted Mark on my neck._ “They will assume it was one of the Company, but they needn’t know who, Gandalf.”

The wizard nodded and left the tent, apparently to do as the Hobbit had asked of him.

“I would like to be alone now, if you’re quite done,” Bilbo told the elf. He acquiesced and followed the wizard from the tent.

When he was finally alone, his hand crept to his neck, where the dwarven king’s bite had marked him forever. It sat just below the bruises the king had so graciously bestowed upon him when he had learned of his lover’s greatest betrayal.

_My greatest betrayal is yet to come._ Bilbo thought. He pulled his hand from his neck as if he had been burned and lowered it to his still flat abdomen. _No, this will be my greatest betrayal._

Their tentative bond had been broken in Thorin’s madness, in his rage, when he had hefted Bilbo by his neck over the edge of the ramparts. Still, Bilbo was anguished from his alpha’s rejection, a tangible pain sweeping through bones. Alone, like this, he could grieve for what he had lost. He could grieve for the family that he had almost had.

In any other circumstances, an omega in his position would likely resign themselves to death, but Bilbo did not have that luxury before him. But Bilbo had sacrificed ever being party to ordinary circumstances ever again. As it was, he was the rejected bondmate of the king of Erebor, and even more distressing, he carried the same king’s half-breed bastard child in his belly.

“I will protect you,” Bilbo swore, rubbing the place where a bump would soon begin to form. “Just you and I, little one. But I swear you will be happy. Somehow. Somehow, I promise you will be happy.”

Another wave of pain radiated from the bondmark, and Bilbo turned into his pillow to scream.


	2. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo moves to his new home. Could this be a fresh start, or the beginning of even more misadventures?

In the end, it was young Sigrid that was sent to collect Bilbo from the medical tents. Around them, Men and Elves alike bustled from tent to tent. In the last few days, the screams of the dying had ceased, leaving behind an unsettling quiet. It seemed that the worst of the fatalities had already passed, and Bilbo’s elven healer had informed him that most of those still living would survive their injuries.

“Da sends his apologies,” Sigrid offered with a humorless smile as they moved from the path of a messenger boy. “He wanted to fetch you himself, but – “

“Your father’s attention should be on rebuilding the city,” Bilbo interjected. He patted her hand where it laid at the crook of his elbow. “The Men are going to look up to him now. He saved us all from the thrice cursed dragon, Eru knows he’s the most competent of you lot. It was… kind of him, of you all, really, to offer me a place. I know beds are scarce in Dale – “

“Master Baggins,” Sigrid interrupted. “If I may be so bold, Da told me what you did for us. If anyone deserves a warm bed, you do.”

And wasn’t that the crux of it? Bilbo Baggins did not fancy himself a hero. Truthfully, he had acted with the most selfish intentions. He had hoped… But alas, trading his life away had not brought his mate back to him.

“I think you severely overestimate my character, lass,” Bilbo said as they began their trip anew. “I did what I believe anyone would have done, were they in my position. And don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. No, trading that… that _rock_ for peace was no act of heroism or bravery. It was desperation, Sigrid, no matter how your father paints it.”

Sigrid, apparently, had no response to that, and they walked in silence until they reached the edge of what must have been the marketplace of the old city. “Tilda is excited to have you. They’ve insisted that we take up in the old royal mansion. It’s not quite a castle really; not like the ones in stories. But there’s talk of making Da king, and everyone keeps saying that it’s only appropriate… Anyway, I help in the healing tents, and Bain is old enough to help with some of the rebuilding, but Tilda is still too young to do much but sulk when Da insists she stay indoors while he’s gone. She’s excited to have the company.”

Inside, Bilbo was cringing. The last thing he wanted right now was to provide entertainment to a bored young girl. But it wouldn’t do to be ungrateful of his hosts. Why, Belladonna and Bungo Baggins had raised a respectable Hobbit, and while he had lost most of that respectability when he decided to traipse across Arda with a hodgepodge medley of dwarves, he certainly knew how to behave when invited as a guest in someone’s home!

“I’m sure Tilda will be delightful company,” Bilbo hummed in agreement.

Dale’s royal residence was just north of the center of the city. It looked the a portion of the roof had been caved in sometime in the last century, and it had most definitely sustained damage from the battle.

“We’re living in the rooms nearest the servants’ kitchen,” Sigrid explained as they entered. “There are fireplaces in every room, and they seem to hold heat well enough. It’s easiest to keep that part of the place warm and running without being too wasteful. There’s too many people without houses, yet, and Da doesn’t like the idea of living in luxury while others are still struggling to eat.”

“Your father will make a fine king,” Bilbo assured her. “And you a fine princess.”

Sigrid flushed as she opened a door on the left of the corridor.

“Thank you, Master Baggins,” she mumbled. She toed at the ground as he followed her into the room. “This is your room. The linens are fresh, and the kitchen is down the hall, if you’re feeling peckish at all. Da should be home in time for dinner; we’ve been eating in the kitchen, and we would like it if you would join us. If you need anything, I think Tilda is exploring the place, so you can probably give a shout and she’ll come running.”

Bilbo thanked her with as much sincerity as he could muster. The silence that followed was pointed, until Sigrid took the hint and closed the door behind her as she left. He almost felt guilty for his rudeness, but the pain had yet to ease. He set a fire going in the small fireplace in the corner of the room and climbed into the small bed. Everything about the room was small, from the perspective of a Man. But for a Hobbit of Bilbo’s stature, everything was just the right size. He surmised that the room may have been meant for a dwarven occupant. It wouldn’t be that far-fetched, given the proximity to the mountain, for the royalty of Dale to have dwarvish servants.

He peeled the dressings from the bondmark and laid them on the table to the right of the bed. When he pressed his fingers to it, the thing radiated heat, as it had from the moment the bond had been broken. He whimpered as his fingers grazed over the indentations where a certain dwarven king’s teeth had once fit perfectly. Now, his body was doing what it could to survive, and survival meant reversing the bond. The area surrounding the bond tissue was breaking down to make way for new skin, bondless skin.

When he poked it, he retched dry air over the side of the bed, so deep was the pain. But exposed to the air, like this, it almost felt normal. Of course, dressing it was helping the healing process and preventing the damned thing from getting infected, but when it was open like this, he could still smell hints of Thorin in his own scent, combined with something altogether new. He suspected the new notes, somehow both metallic and floral in nature, were a result of the fauntling (dwarfling? He had never thought to ask what dwarrow call their young) growing inside of him.

If that were, in fact the case, then the scent would continue to change and be molded by his surroundings as the pregnancy progressed. Bilbo could only secretly (and selfishly) hope that the his child’s scent retained something of its dwarrow father.

* * *

 

Later, he did not remember falling asleep, just that when he opened his eyes, Bard was sitting by his bedside.

“You missed dinner,” Bard offered as an explanation. “The girls were worried. I told them that the last weeks have taken their toll on all of us in different ways, and that they should allow you to rest.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo mumbled as he tried to sit up in the bed. His vision blurred, and he abruptly fell back to the mattress.

“Careful,” Bard shushed Bilbo. He offered an arm to help the Hobbit rise, albeit more slowly. He put another pillow behind his back and helped him to lean back down. “My wife had a similar issue with Bain. Here,” he pressed a cup of water into Bilbo’s hands. “This will help some.”

“So, Gandalf told you,” Bilbo scoffed. He took the water, despite his annoyance, and sipped tentatively at it. The more he drank, the more he could feel himself evening out, and thus it took only a few moments to empty the cup. “And did he tell you of the father?”

“No, but I can smell it on you,” Bard eyed the wound on his neck pointedly. “It doesn’t take a wizard to figure who put that on you. Or who took it away.”

At that Bilbo looked pointedly at the wall and clenched his jaw. “No one can know. If they know…”

“Aye,” Bard agreed quickly. “I advise you stay in the house until that heals up. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need, Master Baggins. But if you don’t want people to know whose child it is you carry, then you should stay put until the alphas can’t smell him on you.”

“And you’ll be the alpha to judge,” Bilbo snapped in return.

“I’ll be the alpha to tell you when you smell clean, aye,” Bard quickly shot back. “But I’ll not be the alpha to keep you prisoner here. You are free to come and go as you please. If you decide you don’t like it here, Lord Thranduil has offered you a place in the Mirkwood. But so long as you are content to stay, you are welcome Master Baggins. It was merely a suggestion to your predicament. I did not mean any offense.”

When Bilbo did not offer a reply, Bard rose and closed the door softly behind him as he went. Alone, again, at last, the Hobbit finally let the tears flow from his eyes. Of course he would stay in Dale. What other choice did he have? And Bard was right, of course; it had been a great risk to his secret walking this far from the healing tents earlier in the day. It was a miracle from the Valar themselves that no one had smelled Thorin oozing from pores as the last of the dwarf’s scent tried to escape. Or perhaps they had and chalked it up to the incident on the ramparts. (It wasn’t as if anyone had had any time to bathe.) No, it would be safest to stay in the bowman’s house until the bond was gone. And by then, it would be safest to have the child in the bowman’s house as well, wouldn’t it? So long as no nosy dwarrow caught wind…

He shuddered at the thought of any of the Company finding out. No. It simply would not happen. Bilbo _would_ protect this baby, even from its own kin, if that was what it came down to. In the meantime…

He swung his feet over the bed, never letting go of the bedframe until he felt sure on his feet. He silently prayed to Yavanna that this dizziness would pass quickly. When Bilbo was sure he wouldn’t fall, he cracked the door open and peeked down the corridor. No one was in sight, but there was a dim light where he remembered passing the kitchen. Perhaps a light snack would calm his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the overwhelming response. You guys are all absolutely wonderful! I think the update schedule is going to be a little sporadic because of some other commitments, but I'm hoping for around every two weeks.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @musingsofaqueergeek

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first foray into the Hobbit fandom. I plan to update weekly. Feel free to comment, and I'll always try to respond. This is going to be my take on the dynamics of omegaverse, and I'm very excited to start really getting into it. 
> 
> Check me out on tumblr @musingsofaqueergeek


End file.
